


singing you a slumber tune

by findyourfortunefalling



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Barebacking, Dirty Talk, F/M, Sibling Incest, Somnophilia, and there was only one bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-02 05:20:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20270626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/findyourfortunefalling/pseuds/findyourfortunefalling
Summary: "Well," says Diego, looking at the bed. "At least the rug looks soft."Vanya takes another step into the room. The decor is a bit... twee, but considering how much folk art and how many doilies they passed on the way up to the room, nothing surprising. The bed is pretty; a four-poster queen with a red velvet canopy and matching drapes, like something out of a storybook. There is, conspicuously, only one of it.





	singing you a slumber tune

**Author's Note:**

> Here's some more gross goopy Vanya-fucking-her-brothers porn, now with 100% more gratuitous schmoop and 100% less safe sex practices. Written for [this kinkmeme prompt](https://umbrellakink.dreamwidth.org/284.html?thread=1073180#cmt1073180); hope you like it, nonnie!
> 
> As ever, if I missed a tag for something you wish I'd tagged for, let me know! Title from "Hushabye", by the Beach Boys.

"Well," says Diego, looking at the bed. "At least the rug looks soft."

Vanya takes another step into the room. The decor is a bit... twee, but considering how much folk art and how many doilies they passed on the way up to the room, nothing surprising. The bed is pretty; a four-poster queen with a red velvet canopy and matching drapes, like something out of a storybook. There is, conspicuously, only one of it.

"I'll go ask for a separate room," she says. "I can pay for it, I don't mind."

"This is the only one they have," says Diego. He isn't looking at her, but over her shoulder, at the door. "I asked, believe me."

Vanya turns, following Diego's eyes, and sees what's caught his attention- a wooden plaque on the door, on which 'Bridal Suite' is painted in looping golden letters.

"Did you, uh," she says, clearing her throat. "Did you explain that we're-"

"I figure they saw our surnames on the booking and just kinda assumed," says Diego, still not looking at her. "We don't exactly look related."

"We don't look like newlyweds either," Vanya says, voice sounding shrill in her own ears.

Diego makes a noise in his throat. "Yeah," he says. "Look, it's fine. I've slept on worse."

"Diego, it's _winter_," Vanya says. She's not sure why she's protesting; he's being a gentleman about the whole thing, and it's not like she _wants_ to share a bed with Diego. Especially not a froofy princess bed like this one, in a _bridal suite_. It just doesn’t seem… fair. "We can sleep on opposite sides. It's a big bed, and I don't take up much space."

He does look at her then, just a glance, then back at the room. Something about the look he gives her- a quick sweep up and down, sizing her up- makes her cheeks go pink. “If you’re sure,” he says, and tosses his bag onto the right hand side of the bed. “I call right.”

*

Vanya wakes up sweating. It's still dark, only the faintest glimmer of moonlight peeping through the lacy curtains, and the air is warm and close under the covers. Her tank top and boxers cling, damp, where the long, hot weight of Diego’s body is pressed up against her.

“Oh,” says Vanya, very quietly. “Diego?”

Diego murmurs, a sleepy, incoherent sound, and shifts. His hand is draped gently on her thigh; his cock, hard in his boxers, pushes against Vanya’s crotch.

“Diego,” says Vanya again. She's not sure why she's still talking quietly; she ought to yell in his ear to wake him up.

Diego makes another snuffling sound, and his arm moves up to her hip, pulling her to him. The shift of their bodies turning rubs his cock along the furrow of her groin, and Vanya realises, with a jolt, that she's wet.

It's just sweat, she thinks, panicked. The heating is up too high, and the covers are too heavy, and Diego- Diego is-

She can feel his whole dick, now, pressed along the seam of her labia, from the glans to the softer bulge of his balls. She wriggles, trying to get out of his arms without waking him, but all her wriggling does is rub them together harder, and shame twists in her belly at the wave of heat it sends through her. Her hips cant up to meet his without consulting her brain for permission, and Diego makes a low, rumbling noise in the back of his throat; his hand slides around to the small of her back, and he grinds against her in a slow, dirty wave. If it weren’t for the two thin layers of cotton separating them, he’d practically be fucking her.

The thought makes her shake. This is _Diego_. She can't forget that, for all that he’s so big and solid against her. The heat and pressure of him feels amazing, and she’s so wet she’s pretty sure she’s leaving a spot on his underwear, but he’s her brother, her brother who can barely stand her, and he’s _asleep_. She has to wake him up immediately before she does something stupid. Stupider, anyway.

"Diego,” she says, hating the whine in her voice. She pushes at his shoulder- god, he’s strong- and tries, in vain, to close her legs. “Diego, wake up.”

“Vanya,” he murmurs, right by her ear, and moves his hand down to her ass.

Vanya’s whole body shudders, suddenly overwhelmed. “Diego, wake _up_,” she snaps, and the windows rattle along with the words.

Diego jolts awake, hand spasming on her ass cheek. “Vanya?” he says, voice clear and wary. “Vanya, what are- oh my god.”

Taking advantage of his surprise, Vanya wiggles out of his grasp and shuffles to the edge of the bed, pulling her knees up to her chest. Diego shakes himself. Vanya can’t see his expression clearly, but his eyes are very wide, the whites shining in the low light.

“Sorry,” says Vanya. "I'm sorry, I-"

“What do you have to be sorry for? _I'm_ sorry. Jesus, I was all over you." Diego scrubs a hand over his face. "This is why I offered to sleep on the floor.”

Vanya wrinkles her nose. Humping each other like teenagers wasn't what she'd been worried about, when they'd gotten into bed. "You didn't used to move around in your sleep that much. When we were kids, I mean."

Diego's face does... something; in the darkness, it's impossible to tell what. "We never shared a bed when we were kids."

"No, but I used to, uh." Vanya clears her throat. "I didn't always sleep well. Klaus was the noisiest- tossing, turning, talking to himself. Crying, sometimes. Ben, too. But your room was always quiet."

Diego makes a little contemplative noise. "Sometimes I used to forget to breathe," he says, softly. "When I'd been training, in the tank. Mom'd come in to wake me up in the morning, and have to check my pulse."

"That's really creepy," says Vanya.

"Thanks," Diego snorts. "Look, I'm really sorry. For, uh." He waves a hand between them, awkwardly, and sits up, grabbing the pillow from his side of the bed. "I'm gonna sleep on the rug."

"Don't," says Vanya, reaching out to touch his arm. He's still sweaty, and the slide of her fingertips over his skin feels lewd.

"Vanya," Diego says, voice low.

"We'll just sleep," she says. She can hear that whine creeping back in her voice. "We can put a blanket between us."

"I _can't_," says Diego, in a tone of increasing desperation, and shifts sideways, away from her touch.

“Jesus, I know you hate me," Vanya says. If she sounds bitter, at least she’s stopped whining. “But you'll bitch all day tomorrow if you fuck up your neck sleeping on the floor-"

Diego stops, halfway off the bed, and turns back to her. "I- what? I don't hate you."

Vanya laughs. It's not a nice sound. "Diego. You have literally said to my face that you hate me."

He swallows, head tilting like he’s looking down. “I’m kind of a prick,” he says. "And I, I maybe _did_ hate you, a little, before. I don't now. I haven't for a while."

"But you'd rather sleep on the floor than in a bed with me," she says, sourly.

"Van, sleeping is not the problem." Diego gestures vaguely at his crotch. "I just woke up practically _raping_ you."

"You weren't! It wouldn't have been-" Vanya shuts her mouth. She can feel her whole face turning red, and feels intensely grateful for the darkness in the room. She tries again. "I woke up before you did, and I didn't- it wasn't like- you stopped when you woke up," she finishes lamely.

Diego turns, pulling his knees back up onto the bed. He looks at her, the moonlight sketching an impression of curiosity on his face, and leans towards her, bracing himself on an arm. "How long were you awake?" he asks.

"That's... not important," says Vanya quickly. "You didn't-"

"Vanya." His eyes glitter. "How long."

She stares at him, biting her lip. She should lie. She should leave. She should tell him to sleep on the floor. Instead of doing any of those things, though, she unfolds her legs, scootches across the bed towards him, takes his free hand in hers, and presses it between her thighs, where she's still sticky with desire. "Long enough," she says.

Diego makes another incoherent noise, and pitches forward to kiss her. His lips are soft, wet where he’s licked them, and he kisses her so sweetly it makes her chest ache. She has to nudge his mouth open with hers, has to slide her tongue into his mouth. His arm is pressed between their bodies, hand flexing against her pussy in a crude echo of their earlier grinding.

"God, Vanya," Diego murmurs in her ear. His fingers curl under the leg of her boxers; when the tips slide over her wet labia, they both groan. "Take your pants off."

"You- you too," says Vanya, yanking her underwear down her legs and kicking them off the side of the bed. The heat and urgency that had dissipated as they talked is back, now, and she feels almost chilled everywhere they aren't touching.

Diego pushes himself up onto his knees, and wiggles out of his own damp boxers. He seems as reluctant to let go of her as she is of him, and the second he's naked he's rubbing against her again, leaving a smear of pre-come on her leg. "This too," he says, tugging at the hem of her tank top. "C'mon, let me see."

"It's too dark to see anything," Vanya says, but she pulls her top off anyway, leaving her nude beneath him.

His hands slide up her torso to cover her breasts, squeezing gently. "Fuck," says Diego, in a tone of reverence. "Look at you. Look at _these_."

"Don't," she mumbles, craning up to kiss him again, but he gently, insistently holds her down, and pinches lightly at her nipples, making her squirm. "Don't make fun of me."

"I'm not," he says earnestly. "Why would I?"

Because you're kind of a prick, she thinks, but what comes out is, "They're... small."

"They're _perfect_. You're fucking perfect," Diego says, still unsettlingly earnest, and leans down to mouth at her tits. He flicks her nipples with his tongue, then sucks on them, almost drawing her whole breast into his mouth with each suck, until she's writhing and clutching at his hair. “Perfect,” he says again, muffled by her flesh.

Vanya's surprised her face isn't lighting up the room, she's blushing so hard. His mouth feels so good, the stubble on his cheeks scratching her skin, making her even more sensitive, but she's still grateful when he noses up her throat and kisses her again. If he's kissing her, he can't keep saying mortifying things. Diego's kissing her like he means something mortifying by it; he's holding himself up on his hands, now, arms bracketing her head, torso arched over hers, and his knees are between her thighs. She's acutely aware that his dick is _right there_, warm and heavy against her belly. She wants it. She wants to stop thinking.

"Can we," she says, breathless. She reaches down between them, getting briefly distracted by his abs, and wraps her fingers around his cock. He hisses against her mouth, hips twitching into the contact.

"Yeah, fuck, please," he says. "Oh, shit, I- you gotta stop. I've got condoms in my bag."

Vanya doesn't want him to leave this bed. It's silly, but she's afraid all of a sudden that if he gets out, he'll come to his senses- or maybe she's worried _she'll_ come to her senses. Either way, the warm darkness inside the red velvet drapes feels safe. "I'm on birth control," she says. "And I got tested, after, y'know. Everything. And I haven't, with anyone, not since."

"Vanya," Diego whines, pressing their foreheads together. "Are- are you sure?"

"Yes," she says, and she arches her back to rub herself against him, letting him feel how wet she is. "Yes, please."

"Oh fuck," he says, leaning back to help her guide his cock to her entrance, then, “Jesus, shit, shit, fuck,” as he starts to sink inside. Beneath him, Vanya shivers; for all her bravado, she’s never actually done it bareback before, too nervous about consequences and never with one partner long enough to try, and the sensation is… different. Not wildly different to sex with barriers, but she can feel his skin sliding inside her, and _knowing_ he’s inside her with nothing between them is a a little overwhelming.

“Diego,” she breathes, grabbing at his sides to steady herself. He groans again, and pins her arms over her head in a swift movement she recognises from their hand-to-hand classes back at the Academy. Being pinned hadn’t felt this good then, but she hadn’t had a dick inside her, and Diego’s dick is nice- thick, filling her up, and long, but not so long it batters her cervix. She considers telling him this, but before she can make words happen he's moving, and words don't seem important anymore.

He fucks her with long strokes, at a steady adagio tempo that feels like he could keep it up all night. "You feel so good, Vanya," he says, voice hushed. "All silky inside, baby girl."

"Don't," she says, tingling with embarrassment. Nobody's ever talked to her like that, and she can’t decide if it’s horrible or if she wants him to never stop.

"Don't what?" he says, low and conspiratorial. "Don't tell you how sweet you fit around my dick?"

"People don't really talk like that," she mutters. It's hard to get the words out, with the metronome snap of his hips pushing her into the bed.

"I ain't people," Diego says. His eyes glitter down at her, wide open, watching her face. Something about that, his stare, the grip of his fingers on her wrists, makes her feel overheated and wild. She bucks, twisting against his hold, but his hands stay firmly where they are. “You want me to let go of you?" he murmurs.

Vanya blinks. No, she really doesn’t. She shakes her head. Diego leans down, and brushes a kiss over her temple. Still holding her down, he entwines his fingers with hers, palm to palm; he gives her hands a little squeeze, and starts fucking her again, a little faster this time.

They move together, more adantino than adagio now, and his body slides along hers with each thrust, sweaty and slick. He’s so much bigger than her. Being held down doesn’t feel like a threat, though; it feels safe, secure, a comforting weight. He _has_ her. There are these noises coming out of her mouth, little uh-uh-uhs he’s fucking out of her; she can hear the wet sounds of her cunt, too, and his panting breath gusting over her face and chest. The soundscape of their bodies together. She wants to come. She wants to hear him come. She twists again, trying to rub her clit against his pubic bone, but it’s not quite enough.

“Can you- can you touch me,” she blurts. For a second, she’s worried she’s asked for too much, but he sighs, a happy sound, and lets go of her fingers. Before she has time to miss the pressure, he gathers her wrists in one hand, and slides the other down between them to circle her clit. “Yes, yeah, just like that,” she says, and he makes another pleased noise as she clenches around his cock.

Looking up at him, at his sweaty face, framed against the canopy by the sparse moonlight, she wonders what it would feel like if they _were_ newlyweds, having gooey wedding night sex in the bridal suite of an overpriced B&B. Would he still be holding her like this? Would it feel better, less complicated?

He’s not her husband, or even her fiance. Just her brother; her sarcastic, goofy brother, fucking her like he loves her.

He’s going to come in her, she realises, with a warm jolt. He’d pull out if she asked, but she won’t; Vanya’s never had anybody come in her, and she wants to know what that’s like. She wants it to be him, pulsing inside her.

That’s the thought in her head when she comes, shuddering, gasping against his neck. He keeps going, keeps fucking into her while she shakes through her orgasm and into a second, wetter one; only then does he let go, shoving his hips into hers urgently, and finally, finally, she feels him come. It’s not as dramatic as she’d thought it would be; a subtle spreading warmth in her cunt as his cock twitches through it, but that’s about it. Knowing, though, that his come is inside her, that he _came_ in her, makes her shiver all over again.

“Baby,” he says, voice still quiet. “Vanya, I-”

“Shh,” she says, and kisses him.

She definitely feels the difference when he pulls out; come cools a lot more rapidly than she’d remembered, and it starts feeling gross really quickly. Diego leans over and snags one of the over-embroidered decorative hand towels from the bedside table, and helps her mop up the worst of it. A damp towel would be more effective, but her worry of letting him go, even as far as the en suite, hasn’t abated enough to make it worthwhile, so they clean up as best they can, and she draws him to her again, cuddling up in his arms. His heartbeat, so loud and fast when he came, is slowing, now, to an even, comforting thump, syncopated against her own pulse in her ears.

“Y'know, you didn't even ask if I'd been tested," he says, after a little while.

"You wouldn't have done it if you hadn't," she says, sleepily. "I trust you."

Diego's quiet for a moment while he absorbs that. "Well, yeah, Mom ran my bloods the other week when I caught my ankle on that barbed wire," he says. "You oughtta take better care of yourself, though."

"Wait, our _mother_ did an STI test for you?" Vanya leans back to look up at him.

"She always runs a full panel!" he says, defensive. "We just fucked, and Mom being concerned about my health bothers you?"

Vanya giggles. Just slowly at first, but once she's started it's impossible to stop; before long, Diego's giggling too, and they're clutching each other, gasping with laughter.

Eventually, they manage to catch their breath, and Diego pulls her close to him, cradling her to his chest. They're both still sticky with sweat, and between her legs, her cunt still feels wet and open, and eventually they’re going to have to talk about… everything, but for now, this is good.


End file.
